


Look Only At Me

by kwhyloren



Series: "Look Only At Me" verse fics [1]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mystic Messenger - Freeform, Yandere, Yandere Yoosung Kim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 20:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8298638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwhyloren/pseuds/kwhyloren
Summary: Yoosung loses it when he thinks MC and Zen have been talking too much.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I needed some Yandere!Yoosung because I feel like there’s not enough of him and originally this started as something that was going to be terrifying and gory, but it also turned into soul-crushing angst along the way. So…brace for some serious feels. This is also posted on my tumblr, [yoosunging](http://yoosunging.tumblr.com/post/151682859937/look-only-at-me-yandereyoosung-x-mc).
> 
> The sequel to this is located [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8394613) (and is listed as being in a series with this one).

He wakes you with a sweet kiss and homemade pancakes in bed. You peer at him through heavy-lidded eyelids, letting out a soft yawn before giving him a sleepy smile.

 

“What's all this for…?” you wonder, propping yourself up on your elbows.

 

He smiles. “You had a long week so I thought I'd surprise you.”

 

You blush, heat creeping up your cheeks as you sit yourself up all the way. “Thank you, this is really nice. It smells delicious.”

 

He sets the breakfast tray down on the bedside table. “It took me a few tries. I wanted to make them perfect and first time I did it, the shape came out wrong. So I ate that one and saved the good ones for you.”

 

Your heart warms at the thought. You imagine the scene in your head: a tired Yoosung standing at the stove, carefully trying to flip the pancakes. One ripping when he tries to remove it with the spatula. His half-angry, half-sad pout at his failure. All of that for you.

 

You grab one of the many pillows laying haphazardly atop the sheets and prop it up behind you. As you lean back, he picks up the tray again, this time setting it gently on your lap. You grip the sides of the tray to steady it and finally get a good glimpse of the pancakes. They are heart shaped -- and topped with syrupy smiley faces. A warm, fuzzy feeling spreads through your veins. Yoosung takes a seat beside you on the bed, scooching clo se enough to wrap his arm around your shoulders. He plants a soft kiss on your temple.

 

“Try them. I want to see if they taste good to you. I think they’re okay but...I'm probably a little biased.” He lets out a breathy chuckle.

 

You smile, finding him adorably amusing. Your hand reaches for the fork, picking it up and poking at the soft dough. A piece comes off, and you lift it into your mouth, chewing slowly to savor the taste. The sweet tang of the syrup pricks your taste buds, and the fluffy texture of the pancake mixes with it to create a rich taste. You finish chewing and swallow.

 

“This is really good!” you exclaim, delighted.

 

“Really?” There's a hint of disbelief in his voice, but he mostly sounds happy.

 

“Yeah. Mmm..” You lick your lips, going in for another bite. 

 

He watches you as you eat; you can feel his gaze. It never leaves you. The pancakes slowly disappear piece by piece until there's nothing but crumbs left on the tray. You let out a contented sigh, stomach pleasantly full.

 

“Good?” He asks.

 

You look at him and smile. “Really good.”

 

His good eye lights up with pride and he fidgets slightly with excitement. Suddenly, he gets up, reaching for the empty tray and snatching it up. “I'll do the dishes! Please just relax, okay?”

 

He wants to pamper you today, you can tell. You giggle and nod, open to being doted upon. He had been right about your week being long and exhausting.

 

Yoosung grins and practically bounces out of the room, off to clean the dishes. You sit there for a moment, just taking everything in. It's nice and quiet for a moment, then your phone buzzes. You reach over and pick it up off the bedside table, turning on the screen. The messenger app has a new message notification. You open it.

  
  


**Zen:** Are any of you on? I have some good news~

  
  


You stare at the screen for a moment, debating. Your curiosity wins you over.

  
  


**____:** I'm on. Only for a little though, Doctor Yoosung has ordered I relax today lol

 

**Zen:** Doctor Yoosung??

 

**Zen:** I still can't get used to that. He’s changed so much thanks to you!

 

**Zen:** Anyway, the good news:

 

**Zen:** I got renewed for next season!!

  
  


You smile to yourself, excited for him. Zen had become a good friend of yours through the R.F.A. Yoosung didn't like you talking with him too much, though. You assumed it was old jealously he couldn't shake.

  
  


**____:** Congrats!!!! That's great, I'm so happy for you!

 

**____:** We should all celebrate or something. Maybe Jahee could put something together?

 

**Zen:** Oh! That sounds like a nice idea :)

 

**Zen** : Hey Jahee, if you read this later, let's have a party!

 

**____:** Lol we could marathon the first season of your show. It'll be fun.

 

**Zen:** You're just full of ideas today, aren't you?

 

**Zen:** Write some of those down for the next RFA party!

 

**____:** Will do lol

  
  


The sound of clanging drifts in the room from the kitchen. You look up from your phone, distracted, before looking back.

 

**____:** I have to go. I think Yoosung is destroying the kitchen lololol

 

**Zen:** Oh my~

 

**Zen:** Have fun ;)

  
  


You let out a puff of laughter and turn your screen off, placing your phone on the bed before you throw the covers off of your legs. A yawn escapes you again and you stretch for a second, then get up off the bed. You pad across the bedroom carpet, then through the door towards the kitchen. From behind, it looks like nothing happened.

 

“What was all that noise?” you ask.

 

Yoosung jumps slightly and the pans clang again as he hits one with his hand. “Oh! You scared me..”

 

“Everything okay?”

 

“Yeah, well I….I made a mess.” he sounds embarrassed as he turned to face you. You hold your breath to keep from laughing. The poor boy's covered in splotches of water and soapy bubbles. A lone spatula lies forlorn on the floor at his feet.

 

“Here, let me help you.” You start toward him, but he shakes his head and holds out his hands to stop you.

 

“No. I don't want you doing anything today except relaxing. Please? You need it.”

 

You look at the mess on the floor and in the sink, sighing. “Okay. But I'm staying in here in case you hurt yourself.”

 

He nods slowly, not looking completely satisfied with this compromise, but not against it either. Yoosung turns back around towards the sink. You pull out a chair from the small dining table and sit. It's quiet for a moment, then the clanging starts again. Your chin rests on your hand as you watch, thankful that you have someone who would do something like this for you. His arm muscles flex as he scrubs the pan he's holding, his eyes squinting slightly through his glasses in concentration.

 

Your heart sinks slightly. You remember the first time you accidentally scared him because you approached him too quietly on his blind side. He was startled, and equally upset that something like that could happen, but he was never more upset than he was when he realized he couldn’t fully take in the features of your face.

 

_ “I can see you, but it’s not enough. It’s not all the way.” he says, head down. _

 

_ “It’s okay, you can still see me, can’t you? Just hold on a little longer, okay? We’ll get you surgery.” _

 

That was four years ago, you realize with a start. Four years seeing out of only one eye. The toll of it has changed him, you know. He’s still happy and sweet, but his innocence is no longer there. Sometimes, you can see a deep sadness in him when stares vacantly out the kitchen window. A piece of him is gone. You wonder if you were the best thing for him. Without you, he’d still have his full sight. Without you, there wouldn’t have been fights.

 

_ “Why do you always go back to her?! Stop thinking about her, she’s dead! I’m the one who’s here for you, I’m standing right here!” you scream. _

 

_ He looks like you’ve just ripped out his heart. “She’s...still a part of me, _____. I’m sorry, I can’t...help that.” _

 

You sink in your chair a little, small flashes of memory crippling you with guilt. Your earlier conversation with Zen in chat reminds you of something more, something you’re not proud of.

 

_ “Why have you been hanging out with Zen so often?” his eyes are suspicious. _

 

_ “He’s my friend. And I don’t just hang out with him, Jaehee goes too.” _

 

_ “I don’t like that.” _

 

_ You raise an eyebrow. “You don’t have to like it. I’m still going to do it, though.” _

 

_ That’s not the answer he wants to hear.  “Do you love him? You do, don’t you? Why would you choose me over Zen, it makes no sense. I should have seen it--” _

 

_ “I don’t love him, Yoosung, you’re overreacting. Stop getting upset over nothing.” _

 

_ “It’s not nothing, though! You always talk to him on the chat, more than you even talk to me.” _

 

_ “That’s coincidence. His work hours are similar to mine, and you’re constantly at the clinic so I can’t exactly text you all the time, even though I’d like to.” _

 

_ He crosses his arms disbelievingly. “You don’t even try to talk to me.” _

 

_ “That’s not true. I call you during your lunch break.” _

 

_ “You could text me little things during the day so I know what you’re up to. You know, to let me know how things are going?” _

 

_ You shrug. His attitude is getting to you at the moment, and you’re not feeling too compassionate. “I don’t want to bother you while you’re working.” _

 

_ He looks exasperated, good eye blazing with annoyance and distrust. “Sometimes I think you don’t want to bother with me at all.” _

 

_ Something inside you snaps a little, and anger bubbles up before you can stop it. “Can you really blame me when you act like this?” Your voice is shrill. “I mean, dammit, Yoosung, stop smothering me so much! I can have friends and conversations with them without you being involved.” _

 

_ “No.” His expression has changed. The hurt is still there, but he’s more serious now. “You can’t.  Leaving me out of your life in any way isn’t right. If you love me, you’ll let me be a part of everything. You love me, don’t you?” _

 

_ There’s desperation in his voice, and you know you shouldn’t say what you’re thinking, but your traitor of a mouth says it anyway. _

 

_ “Yes...but sometimes you make it hard to.” _

 

That was a little over a week ago. You both had recovered since then, and it’s back to smiles and cuddles now, but you think it did a number on him. Small fights over time like small pins sticking into your hearts. It will only be so long until someone gets too hurt to recover. You hope it won’t come to that. You hope there won’t be another fight.

 

“____? You still there? You’re being really quiet.”

 

Somehow hearing his voice makes the guilt worse. You glance at him, seeing him peering over his shoulder at you with a strange expression. Your hand falls from your cheek and you sit up a little straighter.

“Yeah. Sorry, I zoned out.” 

 

Your voice must betray how you’re feeling because he puts whatever he’s washing down and dries his hands on the towel resting atop the counter. He makes his way over to you, grabbing the other chair and dragging it over, the legs making groaning noises as they scrape against the tile. It comes to a stop in front of you and he sits down, leaning forward to look you in the eyes.

 

“Tell me what’s bothering you.” It oddly sounds like a command, but there’s worry somewhere in his voice.

 

Your voice wants to claw it’s way back down your throat and hide, but you know he’ll keep asking unless you tell him the truth. You take a shaky breath and your eyes wander to stare down at your hands, clasped together nervously in your lap.

 

“I was...thinking about the fight we had last week.”

 

You see his body stiffen in your peripherals. He holds his breath for a moment, then lets out a slow, shaky sigh. He’s remembering it too now, you can feel it. The sting of what you said is probably hitting him all over again, opening healed wounds.  _ Fuck _ , you think.  _ Why am I like this? _

 

“...what about it?” his voice is hesitant. He’s treading on thin ice. You both are.

 

“I was just...feeling bad about it. About everything.”

 

He’s quiet again. You hazard a glance at him. His eyes are downcast and his hand is rubbing the back of his head; his calming mechanism. He pauses after a moment and lets his hand drop back to his side, looking at you again.

 

“Did you realize your mistake?”

 

_ Mistake?  _ You don’t understand. You expected him to comfort you and tell you that he forgives you...maybe even apologize himself, but asking you this?

 

“I’m sorry I said those things to you, if that’s what you mean.”

 

His expression doesn’t change. It’s serious, eerily so. There’s barely any emotion in his good eye. The other stares blindly at you like a dead fish. You suppress a shiver.

 

“No. Your mistake.” he states again.

 

Something’s wrong, you can feel it. He’s been a little off ever since you came into the kitchen. You wrack your brain for the answer you think he wants to hear. The name comes out quietly, confused.

 

“...Zen?”

 

Something flashes in his eye, but it’s too fast to tell what it is. His hands clasp together on his lap, knuckles turning white. He’s squeezing them so hard they’re shaking.

 

“Yes.”

 

You gulp, fear fluttering like a scared bird in your chest. You’ve never felt this way around him before. “What about him…?”

 

His hands stop shaking. He’s completely still.

 

“Don’t talk to him. You were talking with him, that was your mistake.”

 

The tone of his voice is level, calm-- but there’s something behind that calm. Something terrifying and powerful that you’re now scared to set free.

 

“I won’t-- I’m not talking to him.” you correct yourself mid-sentence.

 

“You’re lying.” 

 

The words send a thrill of dread through you. Your eyes watch as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He flips it open, revealing the cracked, waterlogged screen and suddenly you realize.

 

“What happened to your--”

 

“You were talking to him.” His voice is raised slightly, phone still held up as if something could still be seen on it’s busted face. “The second I left the room, you talked to him.”

 

“I-- Yoosung, wait...I think you’re misunderstanding..”

 

“Am I?” There’s an ominous silence, and then he’s throwing his phone. It smashes the wall next to your head hard, snapping in half and falling to the floor. He stands, so quickly the chair he’s sitting in topples over. You flinch at the loud noise, hugging your arms close to your chest, scared of what he might do next. He turns on his heels and marches out of the room. You stare after him, scared to move. It’s only a few minutes before he’s back, your own phone clutched in one hand, a hammer in the other.

 

“You can’t talk to Zen if you don’t have a phone.” His voice is level again, his expression blank.

 

You mouth opens to speak, but nothing comes out. He heads towards the counter with them and you know this is it; he's finally lost it. You need that phone to get help and if he smashes it…

 

Quickly, you stand, making it to him and grabbing his arm, tugging.

 

“Yoosung, stop!”

 

He whirls on you, eye blazing, holding your phone up accusingly. “It needs to be destroyed. I want you to talk only to me, and look only at me. That can't happen unless I smash it!”

 

You're almost in tears, but if you don't get the phone, you know it'll be the end of the two of you. Maybe it already is the end, you realize with a bewildered ache in your chest. There will be no coming back from this. You reach for the phone again, gripping both your hands over his. Your eyes find his, pleading.

 

“Please stop this. Just give me the phone, Yoosung. We'll calm down and….and talk this out. We'll get help. Okay? Please…”

 

He doesn't answer, only struggles to pull the phone out of your grasp, but the hammer in his other hand keeps him from using both hands. His fingers release it, and it smashes to the floor, putting a few small cracks in the tile. Then he grabs your hands, trying to pry them off.

 

“S-Stop, Yoosung...please stop…” you sputter through your tears.

 

He doesn't seem to hear you. You're fighting as hard as you can, grabbing back onto it every time he manages to get one of your hands off. At some point, it slips out of both of your hands. You both move to grab it.

 

Your hands find it first. You grip it tightly, not waiting a second before turning and trying to run. There's a tug on the back of your scalp and you yelp, stopping and almost dropping the phone; the urge to reach for where he's tugging is strong. You swallow the urge with your tears and clasp the phone close to you as he wraps his arms around you, hands fumbling, grasping at your hands. Digging his nails in, prying. An hour ago, having his arms around you was a comfort. Now, you feel like a cornered mouse-- and the cat has you in it's claws.

 

You struggle hard, desperately trying to think of something. An idea hops to the front of your mind and you take it. You swing your head backwards hard, sharp pain erupting there as your skull connects with Yoosung's face. Your vision blurs and for a moment you feel dizzy. You're sure you heard a crack, and you think you broke his nose.

 

“Fuck!”

 

He releases you, grasping for his nose, glasses askew. You bolt, socks sliding as you round the corner into the living room, throwing you off balance. Your body hits the carpet, elbow scraping on the fabric. You scramble to your feet.

 

“You can't run from me! You hear me?! You're mine…”

 

You can swear you hear him laugh, but you're almost to the door. The couch blocks your way and you move to circle around it. He's hot on your heels; the sensation of being chased sends your heart into a frenzy, adrenalin coursing through your system.

 

Your foot hits a pile of veterinary textbooks and you go flying, landing on your stomach hard. You gasp for breath, but the wind’s been knocked out of you. Yoosung stops beside you and kneels down, grabbing your shoulder and roughly turning you onto your back.

 

The first thing you see is his bloody nose. Then you see the knife. It's thick blade gives off a sinister glint. You're so petrified, you can't even scream.

 

His grin is unnatural, and you can see by the crazed look in his eye that the man you loved isn't there anymore.

 

“Got you~ If you won't listen to me, then I'll just have to punish you. I warned you to stop talking to other guys, didn’t I?” He raises the knife. “You should have listened.”

 

This time, you scream. The knife comes down, biting into your stomach before your hands can even move to block it. Your abdomen burns as it buries itself deep, sharp pains radiate in frantic waves. He wrenches it downward, then pulls it hard out, blood flicking off the blade, speckling his hand and pants. Crimsons wells up from the wound, stain spreading quickly through your shirt.

 

He stabs you again, laughing. You're a whimpering, bleeding mess. It hurts to breathe. The first puncture wound hurts so bad you barely felt the second. The pain only spreads as he struggles to remove the blade again, and there's a strange draft when he finally frees it from your flesh.

 

You eyes are closed, tears rolling down your cheeks. Your hands gingerly reach down to asses the damage. A sob leaves you as you feel how soaked your shirt is, and you hold your hands there, trying to stop the bleeding.

 

“Shh...it’s okay, ____,” he coos softly. “Why are you crying?”

 

His voice has a gentleness to it, but it’s not at all comforting. You feel his fingers brush your tear-stained cheek. They reek of iron. Another sob leaves you and you try to stop crying so much because the shaking of your body is making the pain worse.

 

“You don’t want to die and be without me, do you? It’s okay, we’ll just play around a little.”

 

He runs the knife lightly, almost tenderly, along your cheek. It bites the skin there and you feel warm blood well up in its place. You whimper and squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for another painful stab, expecting the next one to be the one that ends you, but it doesn’t come. Instead, you feel his breath on your cheek and the sting of his tongue gliding along the fresh cut. Your breath shakes as you breathe, lungs tired from all the running and crying. He takes it as encouragement. His lips brush your cheek bone.

 

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispers against your skin, and if it weren’t for everything, it would have given you butterflies and an affectionate warmth in your stomach. Your fingers curl against the sticky fabric of your shirt. The warmth is still there, but it’s not a good thing. You feel him draw back and you open your eyelids a little, eyes straining against the sunlight coming in from the living room window.

 

The light’s shining from behind him, and from where you’re lying, it almost looks like he’s glowing. His face is a mess. There’s bruising on his nose and bloodied streaks running down from it to reach his mouth, which is also smeared with crimson. His white and green striped shirt is stained with red speckles, and you’re sure the rest of him is stained, too, but your eyes don’t want to leave his face.

 

The look in his eye is utterly terrifying. It’s crazed and needy, with a hint of the old affection you’re so used to seeing, but now it’s all messed up, twisted beyond recognition and dangerously possessive. His lips stretch into a smile as he moves the knife again. You’re shaking, but you don’t dare to try and move away. For now, he’s occupied. For now, he’s not killing you. You’d like to keep it that way.

 

You feel the cool metal nip your upper arm, leaving a burning hot trail down to the nook of your elbow. Your teeth dig into your lower lip to keep yourself from making any noise, but your breathing still shakes with fear. He leans down again and starts planting small kisses up the length of the new cut, his tongue flicking out to press lightly against your skin each time. When he reaches the end of it, he doesn’t stop. He makes a small trail up your shoulder, leaving marks on the sleeve of your shirt until his lips meet your skin again, this time at the base of your neck. His breath comes out in a small, wistful sigh and he moves his mouth close to your ear.

 

“I’m so glad you’re mine...only mine.”

 

Your eyes close against the new flood of tears that pool at the edges of your eyes and slip down to fall on the carpet. You feel him shift again, but he stays close. The salt of your tears stings the cut on your cheek.

 

“Don’t worry, ____,” he says quietly. “We won’t ever be apart. You don’t have to cry.”

 

His lips meet yours and you stiffen against the gesture, every part of you screaming that this isn’t him. You’re kissing someone else entirely, some monster. Not your sweet, loving husband. He holds  it for a moment, and you struggle to stay still. When he pulls away, you inhale sharply and you realize you were holding your breath. The sudden intake of air expands your stomach, sending shockwaves of pain throughout your body. You cry out, hands clutching at your wounds. Yoosung begins to laugh.

 

“Does that hurt? It’s okay, I’ll fix you up after we’re done having fun.”

 

“ _ No… _ ” you moan.

 

He laughs a little harder. “No? No what? You don’t want me to fix you?”

 

You’re sobbing again, the noises coming out of you in small hiccups. The full horror of the situation is hitting you, and you can’t seem to stop, no matter how much the shaking and blubbering hurts your stomach.

 

There's a thump as something hits the floor. It's silent except for your crying. You don't notice Yoosung has stopped laughing.

 

“____...?” it's a frightened whisper. 

 

Your eyes fly open and you look at him through the blur of your tears. It's Yoosung.  _ Your _ Yoosung. His eyes are wide and brimming with tears. He's staring at your stomach, hands shaking.

 

“Oh….oh no….” He puts his hands on top of yours, trying to help keep the bleeding down. The extra pressure makes you gasp in pain. “I did this….I did this to you...sh-shit...there's so much blood.”

 

“C-Call an ambulance..” you croak. He lets out a sob.

 

“Why….? Why did I…?”

 

One of his hands leaves your stomach to grab for your discarded phone. He tries to dial quickly but there's blood on his fingers and his thumb is shaking, slipping on the numbers. A panicked whimper leaves him as he tries to dial again. It works this time.

 

“H-Hello? Yes, we need an ambulance.”

 

Your mind wanders and you zone out for a moment, the pain too distracting. You go in and out of consciousness, but your brain hones in on one sentence.

 

“There's been a stabbing and a suicide. Yes. Okay, thank you.” He hangs up and drops the phone, open hand reaching for the knife again.

 

You instantly know what he's going to do and your heart can't take it.

 

“Yoosung. Y-Yoosung, no.  _ Please… _ ”

 

“I don't deserve you.” His voice wavers, but he sounds resigned to what he's going to do. “I never did.”

 

“Yoosung--!!”  you scream, then go into a coughing fit, blood dribbling down your chin.

 

You don't see him drive the knife into his chest, but you see him after, holding it in there with both hands, eyes wide. You're sobbing again and you force yourself to sit up, ignoring the pain blooming in your stomach. You move closer to him, reaching, trying to make him keep the knife in there, then maybe,  _ maybe _ he can live long enough for the ambulance to save him--

 

He pulls it out, sending a spurt of blood out with it. Some hits your arm and drips down thickly. You press your hands against his chest, wheezing from the sobs and the pain. His body sways slightly and he falls sideways, hitting the ground. He lays there, on his back staring sadly up at you continue your futile efforts to save him. There's a hole ripping in your chest that hurts worse than the stab wounds.

 

“No…. _ no, _ w-why did you do that??” Your voice is thick with despair.

 

His eyes widen, and you realize he looks just as terrified as you feel.

 

“I-I...I don’t deserve you, th-that’s why but I’m…” his voice wavers and his hand moves to clutch your arm. He’s shaking. “I shouldn’t h-have...____, what did I do?  _ Why did I do that? _ ”

 

You push your own worry down deep inside of you, wanting to keep a brave face for him, even if it’s a lie. One of your hands moves to grasp his and you give it a light squeeze.

 

“H-hey, it’s okay. The paramedics are on their way. They’ll be here soon and you’ll be safe. We’ll both be.”

 

He doesn’t seem to hear you. “I hurt you. I hurt you so much, I almost... _ killed _ you. And now I-I’m….I’m going to die and hurt you even more, aren’t I?”

 

You bite your lower lip hard, trying to stay strong, but he’s right. His death will kill you.

 

“No...no, honey, you’re not going to die,” you reassure him softly, thumb stroking the top of his hand. It’s a lie, and you know it is, but you make it sound convincing.

 

He inhales shakily and lets out a small, broken sob and you feel your heart rip wide open. You remove your hands from him and move to pull him upright slightly. His hands weakly clutch at the fabric of your shirt, head resting on your shoulder. Your arm supports his back, your other hand moving to lightly stroke his hair. He clings to you, tears dampening your shirt collar.

 

“I’m sorry….o-oh god, I’m so  _ sorry _ …”

 

You turn your head to kiss his forehead, holding your lips there for a moment, willing him to feel how much you love him. When you pull away, you lightly rest your head on his, continuing to stroke his soft blonde locks.

 

“We’re going to make it out of this...it’ll be okay.”

 

“Y-you...you hate me, right? How couldn’t you? I’m a monster…” It’s almost hard to understand him through his tears.

 

“I could never hate you.” You don’t even think when you say it, and it’s the truth, you can’t hate him-- and you don’t. “Never.”

 

You feel his hand on your cheek. It’s sticky with blood, but you don't care. Your eyes close against his touch and you savor the feeling, heart pricking with pain when you realize this may be one of the last times he touches you like this.

 

“____?” He sounds small, like a frightened child.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I’m scared. I don’t….w-want to die.”

 

More pain in your chest. “You’re not going to die...they’ll be here soon and we’ll be okay, you’ll see. We’ll be okay.”

 

“____.” his tone suddenly reminds you of the day he asked you to marry him-- serious and pleading --and the memory is bittersweet. “Y-You don’t have to lie to me. I know I’m dying. I can  _ feel _ it.”

 

It’s only a moment, and suddenly you’re the one crying. He coughs slightly, thumb rubbing your cheek. You rest your forehead against his, quietly shaking with your tears.

 

“It’s okay, ____. It’s okay.” Now he’s comforting you, this sweet man;  _ your _ Yoosung. Terrified to die, but forgetting himself to comfort you in your moment of weakness.

 

“ _ N-no.., _ ” you sob, “it won’t be.”

 

“It will. You’ll move on. Y-you’ll be happy. Maybe not for a while, but you will be.”

 

Your lungs quiver with a fresh sob. You hold him just a little tighter. “I  _ c-can’t  _ be….not without you.”

 

“You will be,” he repeats. His hand moves from your cheek, shaking as he runs it through your hair. “I d-didn’t deserve you. This proves it.”

 

You pull your head back enough to look at him, eyes wide. “D-Don’t say that, please don’t say that…”

 

His face is wet with your tears and his own. He looks at you sadly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have been better to you. I-I shouldn’t have been so jealous…”

 

“Yoosung..”

 

“I wanted you all to m-myself so badly...and now I’ve lost you. I wish I...I should have trusted y-you more. I should have cherished you m-more..”

 

“Please d-don’t say--”

 

He gasps and grasps at his chest, yelping with pain. You hear distant sirens and touch his cheek, looking him desperately in the eye.

 

“Yoosung! Hold on just a l-little longer! They’re here, they’re going to help you…”

 

His eye looks back at you, dimmer than it used to be. He looks so  _ tired _ .

 

“D-Don’t forget me. Okay?”

 

He’s saying his goodbyes, you know it, and your heart jolts painfully. Tears sting your eyes again and your vision grows blurry. The sirens grow louder and you can hear them pulling up to the house. You will his heart to keep beating, will him to stay alive just a moment longer, and he’ll be saved and you’ll be saved from a world without him.

 

“Don't…. _ don't _ ...please...s-stay with me..”

 

He smiles weakly, mouth red with blood. “Sorry...I can't..”

 

You shake your head, tears falling faster. Some drip from your face and onto his skin, mingling with the crimson. You don't even care that he stabbed you, that was someone else. This man, the one dying right in front of you, is the man you love.

 

And you're losing him fast.

 

His breathing is irregular. One of his hands moves to grasp your wrist, shaking. “I...loved you. Remember that. Not... _ this _ .”

 

“I-I love you too, I do... _ fuck _ , I'm so sorry Yoosung. Please don’t leave me, please, I-I can't--”

 

His grip on your wrist tightens and suddenly he's struggling for breath. You touch his cheek, panicking, knowing this is it, but not wanting to believe it. “No...no no no…”

 

He takes in one last, gasping breath-- then his body relaxes, grip on your wrist loosening before his arm limply falls to his side. All the light has gone from his good eye, and now it matches the other. Staring sightlessly at the ceiling.  _ Dead. _

 

You stare at him, refusing to believe. He had been smiling and kissing your head earlier. He had made you pancakes. He  _ loved _ you. 

 

The front door bursts open, but you don’t move except to hold Yoosung’s body closer and cry. Desperate, wracking sobs tremor through your bones like an earthquake. He’s gone. You know it’s true but you can’t believe it, you  _ won’t _ . You feel hands on your shoulder, and someone is pulling you off of him. Your arms hold tight to him, sobs almost drowning out the voices around you. More hands grab at you, and you can’t hold on to him any longer. He drops from your grasp with a  _ thump _ and lies there, unmoving. You struggle and reach for him as they pull you back, gasping for breath between your cries. He’s gone. No, that’s impossible. There’s still a chance.

 

“ _ Save him! _ ” you screech, trying to bat away a hand that reaches to feel the pulse on your wrist. “ _ Forget me, help him! _ ”

 

They drag you onto a gurney, beginning to strap you down because you’re fighting them and they have no choice. You throat hurts from yelling and crying, and your gut feels like a gaping chasm. Someone is speaking but you don’t know who they’re talking to. Their voice is background noise to your now quiet sobs.

 

“We have a male and a female. Male D.O.A with a stab wound to the chest, female sustained two stab wounds to the abdomen, as well as a few other minor cuts, but she is stable for now. Get a room ready, she’s lost a lot of blood and needs immediate surgery.”

 

They pick up the gurney and begin to take you towards the front door. You crane your neck, trying to see if they’re helping him, desperately hoping they can save him even though he’s stopped breathing--

 

You glimpse his face, eyes now closed, expression peaceful, before the zipper of the body bag closes and he’s lost to you forever. Something inside you breaks and a wave of numbness washes over you. The sun feels faint on your skin as they take you outside, and the doors of the ambulance open up as you reach them, gaping wide. It’s a cage, coming to take you away from everything you ever loved, and as they load you into the back and the doors finally close you think:

 

_ When? When did it get this bad? _

  
  
  
  



End file.
